Lament of the Lioness
by SareptaCooperSmith
Summary: Poor, sweet, clueless Ron. A DHr told from Ron's point of view. Post HBP.Disclaimer: All characters, place names, etc.. are the property of JKR, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, etc..
1. Chapter 1: June 5th

"Go back to sleep" she murmured as she rubbed his back. He lay back, but didn't sleep. In fact, he hadn't been asleep even before she'd awoken from the nightmare. After all, he might not be a genius like her, but he wasn't exactly dumb. When a man's wife engages in the same bizarre behavior on the exact same day for years on end, he's bound to notice.

Ron Weasley let out a slow breath when he felt the mattress lift as she got up and moved about the darkened room. She wrapped her already pajama-clad body in a shawl she kept draped over a chair in the bedroom. How could she be cold? It's June, for pity's sake. He rolled over, put one arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling; it would be a couple of hours until she'd come running back, sobbing and covered in charcoal. He let his mind wonder as he listened to the poorly disguised sobs coming from the lounge where she worked. His thoughts drifted back in time to try and remember when this had all begun. She'd already been doing it when they'd married seven years prior. He'd asked her mother about it, but typically, the woman was very close-mouthed and told him that Hermione would explain when she was ready. What really confused him was the date. When he'd first learned of her odd behavior when they were dating, he attributed it to something that occurred during the war. If he'd have thought there was one day a year when his no-nonsense, 'logic-is-everything' bride would lose her head and cry until she was sick, it would've been the anniversary of The Battle to End All Battles. But that was Halloween. It made no sense to him why his wife became an absolute basketcase every year on June 5th.

He lay there a long while, thinking about work, about the Cannons' new seeker, about moving out of the flat and getting a little house with a garden, and ultimately about the thing they didn't speak of: having a baby. They'd been trying for over a year now. Hermione refused to talk about it, though she did seem sad at their repeated failed attempts at conception. Of course his family was giving him absolute hell over it. "Who ever heard of an infertile Weasley?" George had snickered at their last family dinner. "Feeling a little….performance anxiety, Baby Brother?" Fred had asked. It wasn't so much that it had bothered him. He'd grown up with them, he was used to it, but the stricken look on Hermione's face as she quickly excused herself and went into the garden "for air", broke his heart a little. The sisters-in-law were no better, with their constant onslaught of unsolicited advice. He feared what she might do in a fit of temper if one more person told her it wasn't going to happen until she stopped trying to make it happen. Maybe he could talk to them and get them to lay off. He was having trouble getting Hermione to family dinners now-a-days as it was, what with twenty-four nieces and nephews about. There wasn't a single nook or cranny in the Burrow that didn't remind her of their failure. Children were everywhere. She hid her despair well; not one of the kids knew how Auntie Hermione felt, for she was good to them and constantly went on about how she loved them all. It was apparent by the way she played with them, read to them and accomplished the near impossible task of learning every one of their names. He nearly snorted at this, but remembered he was supposed to be sleeping. His thoughts were interrupted as the door flew open and his distraught wife came running through the door and threw herself on the bed, sobbing hysterically.

"'Ermione?" He said, feigning drowsiness.

"Oh Ron, Ron, Please, please just hold me!" She wailed and shook and cried for well over an hour until she sobbed herself to a fitful sleep. Ron rubbed her back and whispered reassurances into the mass of her riotous hair. As he pulled away from her, he could see the tell-tale signs of her odd habit. She had tear streaks mixed with dark charcoal on her face. Her finger tips and the sleeves of her pajamas were black from brushing against the overlarge parchment where she'd been working. He reached over her to the night table and retrieved his wand. He cast a quick Scourgify on her and pulled the quilt up to her chin, then gently smoothed the hair out of her face and smiled. Even in this hysterical state, she was easily the most incredible woman he'd ever known.

He padded to the lounge and was met at the door by Crookshanks, returning from his nightly patrol of the neighborhood. "Age hasn't slowed you down in the least, you great furry beast" Ron chuckled as he scratched the cat behind the ear with his big toe. He conjured food for Crookshanks and tea for himself before setting to work to rid the lounge of all signs of distress before Hermione awakened. He walked to the window and looked out at the rosy tinges of dawn beginning to color the sky. Setting down his cup, he looked at her work. It was a charcoal rendering of a child. She always drew children on June 5th, but each of them was a little different. Well, with the exception that they were always boys. This one was ten or eleven, no definitely eleven, for he was holding his Hogwarts letter. It was really good, actually, but Hermione refused to talk about her art or even acknowledge the pictures existed. When he'd gone to talk to Harry about it, he wondered if it was just her way of coping with the losses she'd suffered during the war. Of course, that was a rather one-sided conversation, given the fact that he was actually talking to a headstone, as Harry was dead and had been for ten years. He rubbed his chest at the familiar constriction that particular thought always caused. In the beginning, he thought this…whatever it was on June 5th was about Harry, but as he'd learned more about his wife, he'd come to know that Hermione had a peace about Harry's death, that he could only hope for. It seemed that she had figured out long before it occurred, that Harry would have to sacrifice himself to save the world. She had come to accept it. It wasn't that it didn't make her sad; it did, but there was nothing to be done about it. Not like this. Whatever was bothering her made her sad, deep-in-the-bones sad. Ron removed the large parchment from the easel and banished the art supplies to the cupboard in the hallway, where they would remain until next June 5th. He summoned a large leather portfolio he kept hidden behind the wardrobe in the guest room. He laid it out on the floor and was just going to add the latest addition to the collection, but something niggling in the back of his brain made him pull out the pictures and spread them about the floor. Like a bolt from the blue, an idea struck him. He began to re-arrange the pictures of little boys and soon realized that Hermione wasn't drawing a different little boy on June 5th every year, she was drawing the same one, just a year older. He carefully looked at the child's features. They were familiar, but not too. He wished the pictures were in color so he could get a more accurate feel for what the little fellow looked like. He was quite charming, actually. In the first picture, now yellowing with age, he was a chubby-cheeked little tyke, sitting in a nursery next to a toy dragon. The next picture was in the same nursery, but lacking toys, the boy seemed to be toddling about, clapping his hands and laughing. The pictures went on, like those time-collapsed photographs his in-laws were so crazy about (and Hermione thought he needed to take a Muggle Studies course by correspondence! Pfft. He knew plenty about muggles from interacting with the Doctors Granger). Ron could see the little boy growing up before his eyes. The six-year-old boy played with a toy broom and the seven-year-old held a snitch in his small hand. The nine-year-old was propped on a window seat, reading. Ron's eyes crinkled as he smiled imagining the boy with his red hair and Hermione's brown eyes, but there was something….he just couldn't quite… get. The reading boy sat in profile, his features seemed too sharp, almost. It didn't look like anyone he knew. Maybe that little nose and pointy chin belonged to one of Hermione's grandparents, he'd have to ask her mother to show him a photo.

Still, this revelation only deepened the mystery. Ron scratched his head. Had Hermione been dreaming of their having a child together for **eleven** years? That would have put the genesis of this fantasy back in their seventh year at school. That didn't seem like her at all. Hermione was never one to moon over boys or write _Mrs. Ronald Weasley_ over and over again on her parchment instead of potions notes. He stretched back through time with his mind, trying to picture June of seventh year. Of course, it was difficult. He'd purposely blocked out most of the memories from that time period. The war, Harry, Dumbledore, it was easier to just carry on and not think about it. Still, he could easily recall images of Hermione. She'd nearly missed graduation because she spent most of their last term in the infirmary due to a botched stomach flu potion. Strange, he didn't question it at the time. It wasn't like Hermione to brew a potion incorrectly. She'd said she had absent-mindedly used cotton root when the recipe called for dandelion. He couldn't figure how that would make a huge difference. Dandelion was a purgative and she'd already been spewing her guts out, literally, for days before that. It seemed to him she would have been better off without it. He probably should have offered to help her brew it, but at that time, he and Harry were busy helping the Order and tracking Voldemort, who had gone into hiding the previous summer when the last (well, next-to-last) horcrux had been found and destroyed. As he thought of visiting her in the hospital, thinking she looked far too pale for someone who only had the flu, another vision came, unbidden, to him: Draco Malfoy stalking through the hospital wing, carrying an ornately carved wooden box, with a murderous look on his face.

"What's that git doing here?"

Hermione looked at her hands and murmured very quietly "He's come to retrieve …something that belongs to him."

"Not something dangerous?" Ron asked, automatically assuming, as Harry would have had he been there, that the lying snake was probably up to no good. How he'd escape prosecution after Dumbledore's death, Ron and Harry would never know. His dad had refused to talk about it and just told them to let it go. Not that he'd tried. Leopards don't change their spots and the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm was proof enough, to Ron at least, that this particular leopard was beyond redemption. Funny, he couldn't remember Hermione's answer to his question. Well, Hermione had always scoffed at the thought of Malfoy being dangerous. She thought the boys gave him too much credit.

He thought about it for a while longer, but when he heard Hermione stir in the bedroom, he quickly shuffled the drawings and hid them away. She was still sniffling as she made her way to the kitchen. He walked to her and put his arms about her waist.

"You alright?"

"Of course I'm alright. Why do you ask?"

"It's just, you had a rough night. I thought you might sleep in this morning."

"Ronald Weasley, have you ever known me to sleep in?" she replied, bossy as ever.

"No. What are your plans today?" he queried, trying not to look guilty.

She went very quiet for a moment, but then, just as quickly, she perked up and said "I thought I would visit the library at Hogwarts this afternoon. I need to do some research on that new fertility potion your mother was telling me about."

"What does my mum need with a fertility potion?" he asked, playing dumb for her benefit. Secretly, he was pleased; today, at least, she was willing to talk about trying to have a baby. Maybe the pictures were therapeutic, after all.

"Oh, Ron!" she said, hugging him tightly and kissing him on the cheek. "You know she means it for us. I'm going to shower; can you be ready to go in fifteen minutes?" He leaned in and nibbled her neck.

"No and neither will you. It's Saturday, we have no particular place to be, we're young and in love, so let's forget about fertility potions and try to make a baby the old fashioned way, The Weasley Way!" She squealed and actually laughed a little as he lifted her and carried her off to their bedroom.

Three hours later, they were hand in hand, strolling the aisles of the Hogwarts library's vast potions section.

"Hermione, it's a little stuffy in here. I'm going to walk out and see Harry"

"Alright, I'll be done here in about an hour" she said, squeezing his hand and giving him one of her best 'pretending everything is fine' smiles. He left her to her brooding, though he did feel a little guilty about not staying with her today, he just needed to tell Harry about the weird baby pictures and try to figure out what it was about them that made her so miserable.

He walked out onto the lawn and down by the lake. The students were still asleep, for the most part, so he had the beautiful grounds to himself. He breathed in the fresh, warm air and headed toward Harry's final resting place. What had initially begun as a monument to Dumbledore quickly became a cemetery for the honored dead of the war. Harry was on Dumbledore's right, Hagrid on his left. Just as Ron was opening his mouth to tell Harry about Hermione's problem, he detected movement to his right. Looking up he was surprised to see the white blond hair and billowing black robes of Hogwarts' current Potions Master. Malfoy had his back to Ron, giving the redhead the opportunity to watch him without engaging in the war of words normally conducted whenever they met. Malfoy was bending over a grave. "Who does he know buried here?" Ron wondered. Death Eaters' bodies were burned and their ashes scattered, Official Ministry Policy for anyone bearing The Mark. He watched as Malfoy talked to the headstone and caressed the name engraved there. That was odd in itself; Ron had never seen Draco Malfoy show affection to anyone, ever. The stone was smaller than the others in the cemetery and for a moment Ron thought it might have been that of a child. But no, he had personally attended the funeral of nearly every person resting here and he didn't remember anyone younger than fifteen. He shook off a shudder as he remembered the faces of his lost classmates. Turning, he smiled at Harry's stone, knowing his friend wouldn't have been able to resist investigating this new mystery and crept closer, hiding behind a tree. Malfoy straightened to go, but paused to leave a bunch of rosemary tied with a white ribbon. "Rosemary, that's for remembrance. Remember me, Love" Ron whispered, recalling Hermione's words just a few weeks before when she'd planted the herb in a window box outside their flat. Malfoy finally walked away, head down and hands in his pockets. Ron waited for him to leave, before moving to stand in front of the small, black granite tombstone. It had no dates, only a name:

_Orion Leonidas Malfoy_

Ron was pretty certain the grave wasn't new and he was also certain that Draco was the last of the Malfoys. He scratched his head, shrugged and decided to go look for Hermione, confident that given time, he would figure out both the small mystery of the Unknown Malfoy and the greater mystery of Hermione's June Boys. After all, he might not be a genius, like his beloved wife, but Ron Weasley wasn't exactly dumb.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All characters, place names, etc… are the property of JKR, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, etc…. **

**AN: In case anyone was wondering (from the last chapter)**

**Cotton Root is an herb women are cautioned against using during pregnancy because it can stimulate the uterus into an early labor. It is sometimes used to this end on purpose, like an herbal Pitocin.**

**Rosemary is another herb traditionally used to symbolize both marital fidelity and remembrance (at a funeral). The quote in the last chapter was from Hamlet.**

**Leonidas was a Spartan king/general who held the Persian army at a mountain pass called Thermopylae while the rest of Greece mustered a defense against the invaders. He and all three hundred of his men died in the effort.**

**Sarepta was an ancient city in modern-day Lebanon. It was also the name of my husband's maternal great (x3) grandmother.**

Chapter Two: The Serpents Confer

The Headmaster stood before the wide window in his study, looking out over the grounds below. There, he could just make out the Potions Master, stalking up from the war memorial. Was it June 5th already? He mused to himself that the year was speedily coming to an end. He didn't have to see the younger man's face to know he was furious. How many times had he seen that same posture on his protégé? Only, the cause was not immediately apparent. A few moments later, the sight of another young man, loping toward the castle gave him all the answers he needed. With a rather dramatic-sounding sigh, he left the comfort of his office and headed for the dungeons, making sure to take the scenic route so that Draco would have time to down at least one shot of firewhiskey before his arrival.

Upon entering the corridor outside the Head of Slytherin's study, however, he was aware of shouting coming from within. He quickly cast a spell so that any wondering students wouldn't be able to overhear the conversation the Potions Master would normally have taken great pains to keep quiet.

"I've told you. I have nothing more to say to you. I wash my hands of the lot of you. I told you this years ago, now why don't you just be gone and leave me in peace?"

"How could you say such things? How could you turn your back on me? I loved you. I still do!"

"That's rich, coming from you. If I never see your face again it will be too soon. Now leave." This outburst was followed by the unmistakable sound of a woman sobbing.

When she spoke again, all the bitterness was gone and she was so quiet, the Headmaster had to lean toward the door to hear her say, "Alright. I'll go. It's just, today is your birthday and it's been so long. I worry about you. I wanted to bring you a gift. It was my father's. I hoped one day you would give it to your son."

Draco's voice changed, showing that he was not unaffected by her declaration. "Fine. Leave it. Please, just go"

The Headmaster had barely a moment to disillusion himself before the door swung open and the hysterical woman rushed past him, sobbing harder than ever. Her departure was followed by the sound of glass shattering against the wall. He decided the talk with his former pupil could wait until after the tantrum the younger man was currently throwing. He left the silencing spell in place as he went to find the distraught witch.

It didn't take him long to catch up to her. She was leaning against a wall a little way up the corridor, gasping and shaking as tears poured down her face.

"Narcissa?" he called gently as he reached her. "Are you well?"

She straightened immediately upon hearing his voice and after turning her head for a millisecond, no one would ever have been able to tell that she'd been a sobbing mess only moments before. "Severus! I didn't see you there" she called in an almost cheerful voice. "I'm quite well, thank you. How are you? It's seems it's been ages since we last met!"

"I wonder if you might like to join me for a cup of tea in my study."

She looked uncertainly back down the hall toward Draco's door for a moment before answering "Thank you. That would be lovely".

A few moments later, she seemed much more at ease as the professor handed her a cup of steaming chamomile tea. "What brings you here today, Narcissa?"

"It's Draco's birthday." She answered, but looked down at the cup in her hands.

"Ah yes. You don't normally visit him. I'm surprised to see you"

"Yes, well…. may I confide in you, Severus? I know that you and Draco are somewhat close."

"Of course" he smiled at her, something he normally never did, but he had been waiting for years to hear why Draco had cut himself off from his family and if he had to sacrifice a little dignity for the information, well, he'd done worse to gain less.

"Draco and I are… estranged" she struggled "After Lucius was executed; Draco bribed someone at the ministry to scatter floo ashes and returned his father's remains to the Manor. We placed them in the family vault together. As we walked back up to Dowager House (where I live now), he told me I shouldn't expect to see him at the estate anymore." With this she began to cry again, though quietly.

Severus furrowed his brow. "He just cut you off without an explanation?"

"He said we'd betrayed him; cost him everything he'd ever held dear." She sniffed "I don't know what he meant. I mean, I realize he was in a difficult position during the war and it was largely Lucius' fault, but Draco seemed to …I don't know. I got the feeling that perhaps he wasn't talking about the war or the Dark Lord."

Severus let out an exasperated sigh; it didn't seem that Narcissa knew anything more about Draco's odd behavior than he did. "Did you say, after Lucius died? That was more than ten years ago. He hasn't been in contact with you at all since then?" (He thought to himself that he must be slipping not to have known this. He first noticed the seemingly perpetual melancholy seven years prior. Had it really been going on so long?)

"No, he returns all my owls unopened and has closed the main house. He remains in contact with the Solicitor and the Steward, and has instructed them both to provide me with …here she began to cry rather loudly again…. anything I might need or desire. Doesn't he know? He is my heart's desire!"

"Tell me, why do you think Draco would deliberately lead me to believe things were normal between you? It was my understanding he returns home every summer."

"I don't know" she wailed, but they were interrupted by the disembodied voice of one of the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's study. "Excuse me, Professor Snape, sir. There is a rather stubborn woman down here demanding to speak with you, despite the fact that she lacks the password."

"An adult? Who?"

"Hermione Granger-Weasley, sir"

"As if Draco doesn't have enough in his cauldron" Severus muttered. He decided to give up on his rather circular interrogation of Narcissa. She wasn't really telling him anything he didn't already know and pretending to be ignorant of the situation was giving him a headache. It had been a long time since he'd needed to lie on a regular basis. "Send her up" he said, tersely.

Narcissa quickly whispered the spell to right her appearance once more and plastered an obviously fake smile to her lovely face.

Severus was taken aback when the Insufferable Know-It-All appeared at the top of the stairs, looking as though she might've been in need of a cheering charm, herself.

"Ms. Granger. I believe you know Mrs. Malfoy" he said, gesturing toward Narcissa, who nodded in acknowledgement. "What may I do for you?"

"It's Weasley now" she said, straightening her posture to let Severus know he would find no entertainment in her suffering any longer. "I'm looking for the 1875 edition of _Moste Potente Potions._ Madam Pince said you keep it up here."

"Why do you want that particular edition? It was banned in "

"1885. I know. It contains a potion not found in later editions."

"Which potion?"

"The Astarte Potion" she mumbled

Before Severus could chastise her, Narcissa was on her feet. "Astarte? My dear you do not want to give that potion to anyone! The only reason the ministry didn't bother to ban it is because no one would be stupid enough to actually drink it! Do you know what it does?"

Wide eyed, Hermione shook her head.

"It causes witches to have LITTERS of babies! Not one, not even three, but five or six at once! Why on Earth would you even think of using that potion? I hope it isn't for one of your patients?"

"N…n…no. I was just…curious. I'll, I'll go now." But Severus had caught enough students in lies over the years to know she was fibbing.

"Don't kid a kidder Ms. Granger. You're lying." He said, smoothly, advancing toward her, smirk firmly in place. Oh how he missed interacting with Gryffindors on a daily basis.

"I… I'll just go" she said again. She was a brilliant shade of scarlet by this time and backing toward the door.

"Ms. Granger?" Severus called

She looked up at him, not bothering to correct his misuse of her maiden name. "In case you were thinking of going against the advice of those with more knowledge of these things than Molly Weasley, you should be advised that the Astarte Potion only works on cases of infertility that are organic in nature. If, for example, the witch in question was barren due to an accident or ….damage rendered by her own hand ... it would not only be ineffective, but might be also be fatal."

At his last word, the Witch-In-Question fled the office, leaving the door open.

"Who ever heard of an infertile Weasley?" Narcissa mused aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter etc… owned by JKR, etc…**

**A/N: **

**Regarding the last chapter:**

**I may rewrite. I really am not pleased with chapter two, but after trying three different ways, gave up. **

**Astarte is the Phoenician goddess of love and fertility. **

**I love Narcissa, but just can't seem to figure her out, character-wise. She might make a return appearance.**

Chapter Three: The Weird Sister

Ginny was already awake when she heard someone apparate into the kitchen. She struggled up and waddled toward the sound. She wasn't surprised to find Ron helping himself to the leftover ham her family had eaten for dinner.

"Hermione not feeding you?" she asked, smiling as he jumped at the sound of her voice. Eating until he was sick was a remnant of the distant past, so she knew if Ron was bingeing, he must be worried about something. Three guesses what.

"Christ! You scared me half-silly, Ginny."

"For that to happen there'd have to be at least half of you that wasn't silly to begin with. Where's Hermione?"

"Home. Sleeping. I slipped her a sleeping draught in a cup of strong tea."

"**You** slipped **her** a sleeping draught?"

"Well, she allowed me to believe she didn't know it was in the tea, but with the day she's had, I'm surprised she didn't just drink it straight."

"Ah. June 5th" she said, knowingly

"Yeah. This year, I thought things might be changing. She didn't seem as bad this morning, but then we went to Hogwarts and it all went to Hell. I think she had a run-in with Snape"

"Snape? Do you know what it was about?"

"We went to investigate a fertility potion. I think he had the book she needed and made fun of her or something."

Ginny blew out a long breath. "Ron, have you ever tried to talk to Hermione about this? It can't be good for the two of you to have this thing between you, even if it is just once a year."

Ron looked up at her, an idea dawning on him. "Ginny, do you know what all this is about? I mean, you lived with Hermione for years before we married. Hell, you're the one who gave me the portfolio. Didn't you ever just come out and ask her, you know, during one of your late night girl-chats and that?"

Ginny patted him on the leg and smiled gently. "Ron, I think I know just the thing." She disappeared into the hallway and returned, a moment later with a large stone basin. "I've been saving this for you. You'll excuse me if I don't come with you. It's time for Zarek's feeding and I don't want to wait for him to cry as it will wake up the others. Everything you need is in there. Let yourself out when you're done."

"Thanks" he said, leaning forward for a hug but only getting within an arm's length of her due to her protuberant womb. "When's she due?"

"Any moment. I'm just thankful she didn't come today." Ginny sighed "Goodnight, Ron. Oh, and the next time you want to talk in the middle of the night? Place a floo call first. I could've hexed you into next week, ya know."

Ron turned to the pensieve on the table, leant over it and prepared himself for the worst. He was rather surprised that when the world stopped spinning, he found himself at home, in the flat he shared with Hermione. Looking around, he noticed the sofa table was covered with gifts. He looked for Ginny, but didn't see her. Walking over to the calendar Hermione kept by the kitchen door, he noted that the day February 2nd was circled in red. So, it was close to their wedding day (thus the gifts).

In a moment, Ginny appeared from the direction of the bedroom, followed by a very frazzled looking Hermione...

"Sorry to show up so early, but I wanted to get here before the Mothers. What did you end up doing with Ron for the night?" (Ahh, so it was their wedding day)

"He stayed with Fred and Angelina. I just hope he makes it to the chapel in one piece" she said through a heavy yawn.

Both women laughed. A rather uncomfortable silence followed before Hermione said "Ginny, listen. I just wanted to say how sorry I am that Harry couldn't be here today."

Ginny eyes filled with tears. She struggled against them, but finally gave in, all of which was followed by Hermione's own tears. The two women sat on the couch and had a good, long cry. Ginny confessed to Hermione that she had really resented that she and Ron had each other to cling to after Harry's death while she was all alone. But now, she declared, she had finally gotten over it. (Ron cringed here, remembering that immediately following Harry's death, Ginny had closed herself away from the world for three days, refusing food or water and wearing a smelly old set of Harry's quidditch robes. It had taken Arthur hours to talk her into going to the memorial service. Most of the family thought that she'd never fully recovered, but Ron was proud of the way Ginny had put her life back together, even if she was married to that git, Zacharias Smith.)

By now, the girls were laughing and Hermione was fretting about how she would look at the wedding, if she continued to carry on so.

"Well, you have hours and hours before the wedding. I'll get us some tea and you find something to keep your mind off of the pre-wedding jitters."

Hermione conjured a quill and parchment and began sorting through the gifts on the table, making sure to record each one for the writing of thank-you notes. As Ginny came around the corner, balancing a tea tray above her ever-expanding womb, she gasped "Is that a …

"It is" Hermione answered

"A LITTLE BLUE BOX!" They both squealed. Ginny rushed over "Who is it from?"

"I dunno. Tag must be inside." She sat down, clearly wanting to savor every moment of opening this particular gift. She pulled off the white ribbon and lifted the lid slowly.

"Oh Hermione! It's lovely!" Ginny exclaimed.

But even from where he stood, Ron could see Hermione's hands begin to shake as she held the delicate china baby cup in her hands. She was beginning to sweat and her breathing became shallow. Ron thought she might faint, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I've never seen that pattern" Ginny went on. "I didn't know Tiffany did dragons!"

Ron was confused; he'd never seen this cup before. It was a small, fragile-looking thing, with two handles and obviously made by wizards because the pastel colored dragons painted on its surface flew about, breathing fire.

"Who's it from?" Ginny queried.

Hermione, now looking quite pale, reached for the parchment within the box. Upon reading it, she dropped the little cup, which shattered to a million tiny pieces.

Ginny let out a shriek and raised her wand to cast a Reparo charm, but Hermione said "Don't. I…. I… don't want it". Ginny cast an evanesco instead and turned toward her friend, who had gone sort of catatonic. Reaching over, she took the note from the hand of Ron's beloved, who offered no resistance. He leaned over Ginny's shoulder. The note was unsigned and offered no clues as to the sender, though it was apparent Hermione knew who the author was. It simply read:

_For your first-born._

Ron's attention was drawn from the note by a loud, gasping sob coming from Hermione. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" she cried as she wrapped her arms about herself and rocked to and fro.

Ginny put down the note and went to her friend, patting her on the shoulder. "Hermione, what is it?"

Hermione continued to cry, offering Ginny no explanation. After a bit, she sniffed

"Ginny. Oh Ginny, I've done something so ...so… awful! I am such a fraud. All of those people in that church are going to look at me today and know… just know that I don't deserve to be standing there, in a white gown, pretending to be the sweet, virginal bride! I am such a bad, terrible person! And oh, oh God! If Ron finds out, I know he'll leave me! I wouldn't blame him, if he did. He's too good for me."

From the expression on his sister's face, Ron could tell that this was not the first time she'd seen an outburst like this. He leaned in and listened as she whispered. "Hermione. It's alright. It's alright. We've all been forced to do things we wouldn't otherwise do because of the war. You mustn't hold yourself accountable for that which is beyond your control…" She went on for several more minutes like that until the bell rang and Hermione's mother escorted in a large group of women who had, apparently, come to get the bride ready for the wedding.

At this point, the memory faded and Ron found himself back in Ginny's kitchen. He didn't leave, though. He thought back to his wedding day. Hermione seemed, not only fine, but happy. He just didn't understand. Did he really know so little about her? He started to barge into the nursery and ask Ginny what exactly she wanted him to know from watching the memory, but decided against it. He had made up his mind; tomorrow he would ask Hermione to explain and he wasn't taking no for an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **

**Harry Potter etc… owned by JKR, etc…**

**A/N: I don't think there were any obscure pop-culture references in the last chapter. Maybe Tiffany's little blue box, but I seriously hope that doesn't need explanation. If so, there is no hope for future generations of women.**

**I know I said five chapters, but they're turning out rather short, so it may actually take six or seven. Most likely six and a rather sappy epilogue.**

Chapter Four: The lion who lay down with the serpent

Ron didn't feel like apparating home.

Didn't feel like using the floo, either. As he walked the sixty blocks from Grimauld Place to his flat, the pieces in his mind were beginning to come together, but he didn't like where they were going. The feeling of apprehension in his gut was nearly unbearable. He sighed. All he wanted, all he'd ever wanted was to protect Hermione. He considered giving up his scheme to ask her about the …he swallowed hard before he could even think the word….baby. On the one hand, if he asked her and she was straight with him, then he could forgive her and they could move on. On the other, she might lie and that might escalate into a full-blown schism. Ron could only think of one acceptable outcome of the entire thing: he had to keep her, no matter what she said. He'd already lost Harry and that had nearly killed him. If it wasn't for Hermione, it probably would have. No matter what she said or how he really felt about it, he would say he forgave her, he decided.

About half-way home, he decided he was in need of a little liquid courage, so he stopped into a little pub run by wizards. It was what, these days, was called a mixed place. It wasn't hidden from the muggles at all, no secrecy wards, nothing. Even though the wizards running it dressed like muggles and refrained from using magic in the running of the establishment, they made no such demands on their clientele. One of the things Ron loved about this set-up was the complete and total denial by the muggles that anything was amiss. The Ministry had assigned a full-time oblivator to work at the place as security for the first few months it was open, but it actually had on of the lowest number of magic-in-front-of-muggles incident reports outside of Diagon Alley. The muggles who frequented _The Restaurant at the End of the Universe_ either attributed the odd things they saw to drunkenness or didn't see them at all. He chuckled. Sometimes it was hard to see what was sitting right in front of your face.

Upon entering, he noticed Neville Longbottom sitting at a table in the back with a leggy blonde (will wonders never cease?). Neville hadn't noticed him and he didn't particularly feel like company, so he made a concerted effort not to be seen. He ordered a firewhiskey and took the long way round the lounge before sitting behind a large sago palm, which was actually the only thing separating his table from Neville's, but hid him from his brother-in-arms, just the same. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the events of the last few days. He could hear Neville's date talking. He decided to listen, not that eavesdropping was something he normally did; he just wanted a nice, normal distraction.

"You must know something" she purred. Ron frowned, did he know this woman?

"I told you, we're not close"

"But you work together, live in the same place. The Headmaster tells me you're working on a project together."

"That doesn't mean anything, despite the impression you might have gotten because of our interaction during the war, we are not friends. We barely tolerate one another. Besides, if he knew what I…what….we've been doing, I doubt he'd spare a thought before disemboweling me"

She laughed, sounding very girly. "Neville, my dear, you've done nothing wrong. I may be his mother, but I'm still a woman; I still have needs". At this, Ron couldn't help but turn around and look. He had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from emitting a curse loud enough to give him away. Neville was sharing a drink with Narcissa Malfoy whose right hand was sitting very high on his left thigh!

"Still, I know you'll tell me what I want to know. You always give me what I want." Here, her voice became low and seductive. It was enough to turn the stomach of the strongest auror. Ron tried to look away, to get up and leave, but it was like watching a train wreck. He stayed glued to the spot. It was obvious from the tone of Longbottom's voice that he was a) nervous and b) slightly inebriated.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you what I know. Help me; I can't remember what I told you last year. I…did I ever tell you that he is the one who petitioned Snape to make Muggle Studies mandatory for every student?"

"Yes dear, you've told me that several times (Ron frowned, that was years ago. How long had Neville been sneaking around with Malfoy's mum?) Tell me something about the project you're working on together"

"Yes, well, together isn't a very good description. You see, it's a potions book. Easy, practical household potions you can brew with everyday items. It's going to revolutionize housewifery, I'd say. I'm writing the section about Herbology, obviously, giving tips about growing common garden plants, etc... Mal...er...Draco is writing about the actual brewing. We're getting some help from the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Sullivan."

"Ooh. That sounds lovely"

"Yes, we'd hoped to have it done, but it's taking a bit longer than expected and will be delayed another few months by the summer break."

"You can't work during the summer?"

"Of course we can, but your son won't. He goes away every summer." Here, he held up a hand "Don't ask where; I don't have the faintest idea. You know, he yawned, I really should go. It's very late."

"Oh. Don't run off yet, the night's still young. Here, have another drink." Neville complied with her request. "Excellent. He's never mentioned where he disappears to? Well, how about with whom? Is it a woman?"

"No, definitely not a woman"

"Are you sure? I was certain there was a woman."

"Oh, I'm positive"

"Neville, are you insinuating that my son's lover is a man?"

"Oh, no, no of course not. I'm pretty sure he's at least mostly straight. He does have some sort of dainty qualities, though" he chuckled and Ron chuckled right along with him. He couldn't agree more.

"If there's not a woman, perhaps there are several. His father always liked to play the field, even after we were married." She smiled, but her eyes were narrowed and angry.

"To my knowledge, there is no woman. He avoids women all together; says they're more trouble than they're worth and has taken some kind of self-imposed vow of chastity or something. The only women he interacts with are the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and his students, but he has a reputation for being very cold toward them. Of course, that doesn't stop every girl second year and above from making cow eyes at him. It's revolting. Even some of the female staff have been known to moon over him. Yesterday, as every year on his birthday, there was a comical parade about the school as dozens of well-meaning teen-aged witches attempted to bring him cakes and presents. He, having experienced this deluge in years past, charmed his door to confuse anyone attempting to enter so they wound up on Professor Lupin's doorstep."

"How is dear Nymphadora?" I haven't seen her in a swan's age. "You said she's the only other woman besides students he has anything to do with. Do you think they're kissing cousins?"

"Hell no. She's still pining over Remus, poor thing. I don't think she'll ever get over his death."

"Yes, I imagine it's quite tragic, losing one's mate"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Cissy. I didn't mean to be such an insensitive lout. I know it must be hard for you" She laid her head on his shoulder.

"You know, I don't know why you don't just approach him yourself. Whatever happened between you can't be as bad as all that. I would intervene on your behalf, but he's not likely to listen to me"

"Neville?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Draco is pining?"

"Over a woman? It doesn't seem like a very Malfoyish thing to do"

"Yes, but as you've just pointed out to me, it is a very Blackish thing to do"

"Hmmm. You might be right."

Ron decided he'd had enough and made his way to the door, leaving the (shudder) lovers behind. Still he couldn't help but smile; thinking of the look on Malfoy's face when he found out Longbottom was poking his mother. What he wouldn't give to see that. Divine justice, if you asked him, and speaking of divine justice, he'd love to know just who the little minx was that had broken Malfoy's heart. No less than he deserved, the prick. He'd like to shake that woman's hand. He was still musing to himself as he entered the flat. Hermione was awake and had been crying again. Well, here goes, he thought.

"'Ermione? You okay?"

"Yes. I… I was worried about you. I awoke and you were gone"

"I went to see Ginny. No need to worry"

"Ginny? Oh, has she had the baby?" She sniffed.

"No, not yet. Though if you ask me, she'd better pull up after this one. Zarek is a year old and still not sleeping through the night." Hermione nodded, but he knew she hadn't heard a thing beyond no.

"Hermione?" He made to sit next to her on the sofa and pulled her close, closing his eyes breathing in the scent of lemongrass upon her pajamas.

"Hmm?"

"We need to talk…about June 5th"

"It's the 6th, Ron"

"No, I mean about every June 5th"

"Oh"

"I want you to tell me the truth. I promise, no matter how bad it is, whatever you have to say, I'll listen and hold my tongue until you're through."

She looked up at him and Ron's breath caught. She was clearly afraid of telling him, her eyes were wide and her pupils little pinpoints in the iris. He thought he'd make it easier for her

"I know part of it. I figured it out"

"You did?"

"Yeah. I mean, there are the pictures and then (he hesitated here because he didn't want to betray Ginny's confidence) I know about the cup and well, after the problems we've had… I guess I kind of put two and two together. I know you had a baby, sometime in the past, probably seventh year. God, it's hard to even wrap my mind around it, but there it is."

"Is that all you know?" She pressed her face into his chest; he thought she might be trying to avoid looking into his eyes. If she was going to lie, it would be soon.

"Well, I …I think maybe the baby died. You miscarried or it was stillborn. Listen, Hermione, it doesn't matter to me if you accidentally got pregnant before we were married. We all did things during the war we wouldn't otherwise normally do. It's how we survived. It's not your fault and I forgive you for keeping this secret from me, but, I understand why you did"

He thought she would cry, but she hopped off of his lap and turned to face him, her eyes burned with anger. "Forgive me? You forgive me? I'm sorry Ron, but you have put two and two together and come up with five! I don't require your forgiveness. How dare you make this about you! Anyway, you're wrong. The baby didn't die because of the war." She was shaking with anger and when she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. "I was too weak and immature to admit my mistake and so I made it go away. I brewed a potion to bring about labor and the child was born six months too early... His father took his body and ….I never even saw him. I don't even know where he's buried or what his name is...I...I killed him. I killed him and as a result of the horrible...potion I used, ... I ...might not ever ...conceive again!" Now she did cry, she collapsed in a heap on the floor and wailed her heart out.

Ron was too shocked to move for several long minutes. "What?….what?… no…no…wait...wait...who?... who was the father?"

"It doesn't matter. He hates me for aborting the child. He wanted us to get married. He had some delusional idea that we could take walks in the park, pushing a pram and change nappies together, with a war going on. We haven't spoken since he came to collect the baby's remains."

Ron felt like he might retch… "He…he sent you the cup, though, didn't he?

"Yes, I guess he couldn't let me be too happy. Couldn't let me forget what I'd done, as if that were possible"

"Who is it? Please, tell me"

"No Ron, it would just make it worse"

She stood and walked into the bedroom and closed the door. He could hear her sobbing and his heart ached. He wanted to go to her, comfort her, but at the same time, he was revolted by her callous admission. No wonder it was so terrible for her. June 5th must have been the day it happened. Dear God, he wished he'd never asked. He'd never look at her the same way again… and now, they might not be able to have children and he knew she meant it when she'd said a hundred times before that it was all her fault. He threw his head on the back of the sofa and cried silently. There would be no little redheads to fill his house with the garden. There would be no first broom rides or Hogwarts letters, no Cannons games, no one to pass his grandfather's chess set on to. He sat there a long time, letting his grief wash over him.

After a while, there was a tapping at the window. An owl appeared backlit by the first rays of sunrise. The owl was for Hermione, from St. Mungo's.

He carried it to the bedroom and knocked on the door.

"I'll understand if you want to go" she said

"Huh? Go? No, Never. I love you. I'm not going anywhere"

"You don't hate me?"

"Maybe a little"

She sobbed "Good. I don't think I could know what to say to you if you weren't appalled by my actions. I hate myself, you know. I hate it, but I wasn't ready. God, and if I had done what...he…the father wanted, I'd have been unable to help Harry and …she cried for a fewmoments before continuing…. And then we wouldn't be together and whatever else I've done wrong…we…you and I, Ron…we're right."

He pulled her close and they both stood there crying, until he remembered the letter.

"Oh, I nearly forgot, you've received an owl"

She took it, opened it and gasped "OH NO!"

"What is it?"

She began running about the room, dressing as she went. "There's been an accident. Neville was trying to apparate and wound up in front of a muggle commuter train. Apparently, since his grandmother died, I am listed as his next-of-kin."

They hurried to St. Mungo's, bypassing the lobby as Hermione waived her healer credentials at the receptionist. Ron was feeling more than a little guilty. He knew Neville had been drinking and he left him to find his own way home. He wondered what happened to Mrs. Malfoy. Was she hurt too?

He got his answer as they came to a halt in front of the emergency ward and were greeted by a disheveled looking Draco Malfoy accompanied by Severus Snape, who looked every bit as surly as he ever had during potions class.

"Where's Neville? What happened?" Hermione said, hurrying up to Snape.

"Apparently, the drunken fool tried to side-along apparate himself to Wiltshire and wound up being hit by a muggle train."

"Is he…is he going to die?"

"No, fortunately, his natural defenses kicked in. He broke every bone in his body, but he'll live. He'll behealing for weeks on end, though."

"Who was with him?"

"My mother" came the cold, deadly voice of the Potions Master

"I don't understand."

"I saw them together, tonight at _the Restaurant at the End of the Universe_" Ron supplied

"They were drinking, but I didn't …I didn't feel like they wanted to be seen, so I left them alone:

"Weasley, are you insinuating that my mother went on a…date? With Longbottom?"

"I'm just telling you what I saw"

"Well, you saw wrong."

"Is she very seriously injured?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on Malfoy's forearm, which he immediately jerked away.

"She'll be fine, just a few cuts and a fractured skull. She should be on the mend and ready to go home within the hour" Snape explained. "We've been asked to wait over there" he said, pointing to a small, private waiting area. They all stepped into the waiting room and began what was to be a very long, very tense wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All characters, etc.. are the property of JKR, Bloomsbury, etc...**

**From Last time: **

**The Restaurant at The End of the Universe is, of course, from _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_**

**The Care of Magical Creatures teacher is named for Professor Robert Sullivan, who discovered and named the new dinosaur _dracorex hogwartsia_**

Chapter Five: The Awful Truth

Severus rubbed at his temples, trying to will away the approaching migraine. Draco looked up at them again and when Madam Weasley sensed his gaze and looked up, he went back to staring at his hands. She would watch him until he looked up and then she would look away and ask her husband what time it was. This had occurred no less than a dozen times in the hour they'd been waiting. It had to stop.

"Mr. Weasley, come with me to fetch tea from the commissary."

"But, can't you just…" he looked at his former teacher and realized there would be no arguing… "Alright."

"Professor", Draco cut in, "I'll go with you."

"No, Draco. You two should wait here. You are, collectively, the next-of-kin. Any word or action will need to go through you."

Ron was about half-way down the hall before he came to a screeching halt upon the realization that he wasn't in school anymore and the war was over, therefore, he was no longer obligated to follow the Headmaster's instructions without question.

Severus, seeing that a full-scale revolt was about to unfold, grabbed the back of Ron's robes and pulled him along, saying "Don't hover Mister Weasley. There is a conversation going on, as we speak, that you will be grateful for not overhearing".

Ron looked at him and scowled. Surely, this lunatic didn't 1) know about Hermione's ….situation and 2) wasn't suggesting that Draco Malfoy had anything to do with it?

"Listen..." he started, but was interrupted by the appearance of Narcissa Malfoy, looking fresh as a daisy, coming out of the emergency ward and heading for the waiting area.

The two men made to catch up with her and just as they did the three of them were thrown gently back by an invisible shield surrounding the waiting area. Inside, they could see Hermione and Malfoy. She was talking; Ron recognized the tell-tale signs of a crying jag approaching by the way she scrunched up her face every few seconds and the ever-increasing brightness in her eyes. Malfoy had his back to her, arms folded over his chest, but there were rather bright spots of color beginning to appear on his cheeks. They couldn't hear the conversation, but Ron noticed that Narcissa looked just as confused as he did. The Headmaster, however, looked…well, smug. It was as though he'd orchestrated the entire thing himself. "What is this about, Severus?" Narcissa asked "Draco's not dressing her down because I was with Neville during the accident, I hope?"

"Narcissa, darling, one of these days you will learn that the world doesn't turn on its axis because you will it to do so. This has absolutely nothing to do with you, but if you and Mister Weasley here will just let it play out, we may all finally get a small respite from this little drama into which we've been drawn"

"Don't you know a way to listen in?" Ron asked

"Of course I do" he responded "but I'm not sure either of you are ready for the truth"

"I already know part of it" the two said simultaneously

"You do?" they each asked the other as they turned face to face.

"You two will have to save the Vaudeville act for later." Severus said as he muttered something under his breath and waved his hand, they could hear Hermione talking though she sounded very far away and her voice echoed slightly as though she were in a tunnel or down a well.

"….Please…just talk to me…"

"I have nothing to say."

Then, as if he knew someone was eavesdropping, Malfoy waved his hand and the sound was lost. Hermione didn't seem to notice any of this, but Ron's heart rate sped up at the lost, sad look upon her face. She began to speak again and her lips formed the unmistakable word…"Draco".

He turned to face her, but didn't speak.

"It's her." Narcissa whispered "He loves her"

"Don't be stupid... Ron started, but then recognizing the way the woman's son was looking at his wife, he knew that she might be right. "Alright, he may but that doesn't mean she loves hi…"

"I love you" Hermione mouthed

Malfoy was on her in a flash. Ron's stomach turned and he found it hard to breathe. He lurched forward to try and wrench her out of the tyrant's grasp, but encountered the barrier and was thrown back into Narcissa. He struggled furiously. Malfoy had a hold of Hermione's shoulders and was shaking her. He was yelling something at her, but Ron couldn't make it out.

"Severus, do something" Narcissa pleaded

The Headmaster, seeing that no closure would be found today, waved his wand causing the wards to fall just in time to hear Draco say "You're just like them! You killed him because he got in the way of your ambitions! No less than my father would've done. Only he'd have been honest about his motivation."

"Draco, there you are!" Narcissa breezed. They might have been able to make it look like they'd just come upon the scene, none the wiser, but Ron finally lost his legendary Weasley (nee Prewett) temper. He drew his wand and came to stand between the two of them.

"Don't you ever come near my wife again! If you so much as breathe in her general direction, I will kill you. Do you hear me, Malfoy?"

But Draco didn't seem to hear him. He was staring over his shoulder at Hermione, who had now dissolved into tears and sunk down on the sofa. Ron found himself roughly shoved out of the way. Malfoy made his way to the place where she sat. He crouched down in front of her and whispered "Please. I… that was out of order. Please don't cry"

Hermione looked up at him and said "I'm so sorry. I…. it was so hard for me… everyday I've thought of him, how he would look and…how …you were right. I was no better than Lucius, but I…I… Oh, I've ruined all our lives..."

"No. No" he whispered. "It's not your fault. .I …if I hadn't been who I was then. If it was Potter or Weasley or even Longbottom, you'd never have thought twice about it. You'd have gotten married and lived happily ever…"

"No, Draco, No. That's not why. Please…"

"Granger, listen. I…I've done something. You must… try to understand…. I was so…it was…Madame Pomfrey thought it would give me some…. I don't know, comfort. I… named him Orion, after my mum's grandfather and Leonidas, like you wanted. He…he was so small. Just fit in the palm of my hand." He sniffed. Severus let out a long breath and turned his back to keep from having to watch Draco cry. Ron and Narcissa each sank down on the sofa opposite Hermione's. Narcissa began to cry, quietly while Ron covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head. Draco continued "It hurt….it…I thought I might die from it… and I was so…angry. I just struck out and it was so easy then to blame you."

Hermione looked at him and the fierce expression on her face told them all she already knew what he was going to say and it wasn't good.

"Draco, what did you do?" They were all thinking it but it was Narcissa who asked.

"I…I'm sorry. I cursed the cup. You… didn't mess up the potion. You were in perfect health, but now..."

"No!" Ron yelled. Narcissa grasped his hand and Severus simply shook his head to let Ron know he must remain quiet. Hermione grabbed Malfoy's shoulders. "Draco, no, no….please, tell me there's a counter…please…"

"I made it after he was born. I thought if I couldn't have you, I wouldn't know how to live, how to carry on. I didn't want you to be with anyone else…I was jealous of Potter and… I… used some of the baby's…blood…and…I…. all you had to do was smash the cup… it was sealed with a…I knew you would break it. Your temper…There's… it's not a fertility curse…you…you're bound to Orion's blood, my blood."

They all sat in quiet horror. Hermione rose after a while and left. Ron followed her as she informed the mediwitch on staff to notify her by owl if Neville needed anything.

Meanwhile back in the waiting area, Draco remained crouching on the floor, staring at the empty spot where Hermione had been sitting. Narcissa approached him and pulled him to his feet. He dumbly followed. "Severus, please help me. I want to take Draco home, to the manor and then when he's settled; I'd like you to take me to my grandson's grave." The Headmaster nodded his agreement and together, they apparated Draco to the master suite in Wiltshire.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter….JKR…Etc… **

**A/N: Call this chapter 5.5**

June 9:

Ron lay in their bedroom once again, staring at the ceiling, one arm behind his head. It was late or early. He didn't know which. He tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, a vision of Malfoy crouched in front of his wife sprang into his head. Even now, he had to admit, there was an intimacy between them the years hadn't managed to diminish. Each time he rolled over and encountered the empty spot where his wife should be, the grief returned full-force. Hermione hadn't been to work, to the table for food or to bed in nearly three days, nor uttered scarcely a word. Instead of crying and raging, which is what Ron wanted to do; she did what she always did in times of trouble: she turned to her books. She'd been researching a counter-curse, referencing every dark tome she could lay hands on. They both knew no good would come of it. They didn't know what curse Malfoy had used. In fact, given his knowledge of the Dark Arts, it was very likely he invented the damn thing himself and this is what was keeping Ron awake at night. The only way to discover or create a counter to the spell would be to ask for his help. Hermione hadn't mentioned it yet, but he knew she would. When she did, Ron wasn't sure what he would say. They were at a crossroads. If he agreed to ask for Malfoy's help, he would be allowing his wife to spend large amounts of time with a man she'd admitted to being in love with not a week before, but if he refused she would think he didn't trust her, didn't have faith in their bond. Honestly, he felt they should just forget the whole thing and adopt a baby. Hermione had told him only a few weeks ago that she'd been reading about an orphanage where most of the children were squibs, abandoned because of their lack of magic. Maybe they could…. The door opened and Hermione came in, a cautious expression on her face.

"Ron? Are you up?"

"Hmmm"

"Ron, listen. Are you listening?"

"Hmmm"

"I've been giving this a lot of consideration and… I would want you to come with me of course… but I'd like to ask for Draco's help in developing a counter. (Here Ron cringed, he hated that his rival was no longer 'Malfoy', but 'Draco') I know, I know. You don't feel we can trust him, but I… I really think he'd be willing to help us if I just explain to him…If we can just make a decision to move on."

"What if he says no?"

"He won't"

"He will. If not because he's still angry at you, then because he hates me, or Harry, or just to be an evil git! He won't help us. Have you given any thought to trying to work around the curse? I mean, it's obviously not working very well, is it? I mean, after all, we've been married for seven years and sleeping together for eight. It's not doing its job, is it?"

"Well, she began; I think it's kind of like what Dumbledore told Harry. In the end it's our choices which really matter. The curse is in place; it's marked me, but doesn't control me. Harry knew what was before him and chose to go forward anyway. It's the same for us. I chose you. No matter what Draco does or doesn't do as far as the bond is concerned, how it ends, is still, ultimately, my decision."

This obviously rehearsed speech gave Ron little comfort. "What do you feel our choices are, then?" he asked.

She got up and began to pace as she ticked them on her fingers.

"Hmmm.

1. We accept that I can't conceive a child with you and live without children

2. We ask Draco for help and he agrees, we develop a counter and have our own children.

3. We ask Draco for help, he won't agree and I go on looking for a counter alone

4. We try to circumvent the curse by muggle means; don't roll your eyes Ronald! Lots of muggle women get pregnant byIn vitro Fertilization!

5.We ….well…we ask Draco to ….father a child whom you and I could raise as our own."

Ron was absolutely floored by the last suggestion. She hadn't even considered adoption, but she was willing, or maybe wanting, to sleep with him again. He couldn't dance around it any longer. "Hermione, can I ask you something?"

She looked up at him and nodded, causing several curls to fall across her face in a manner he normally found adorable, but for some reason irritated him at the moment.

"Are you still in love with him?"

"No, not for a long time." She looked at the window behind him. She could never look him in the face when she lied. Never.

Ron decided to ignore the jagged pieces of his heart pressing against his ribcage and continued asking questions. "But, what I don't understand is, how. How could it have happened in the first place?"

"I don't really know if I can explain it." She turned her back to him, but he could see her face in the mirror that hung over the dressing table. She bore a sort of bittersweet expression, very wistful. "It was… it was like a …force pulling us together. We tried to ignore it, but….well; you know what it's like…we were young and passionate about winning the war. We just got caught up in the excitement and before we knew it…"

"You were sleeping together"

"Yeah" she smiled

"Do you….earlier you said…do you want to… with him?"

"No, Ron, I don't" she said with her eyes closed. Then, she turned around and looked right at him this time "but if it's the only way to get around the curse….well, I'll do what I have to do"

Ron got up and embraced her. "Hermione, listen to me. Please, please don't sleep with him. I don't want a child that badly. We can adopt children, lots of them, or we can just go on being the greatest aunt and uncle who ever lived. All that matters to me is that I have you. I don't need anyone else. Promise me."

She looked back up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. "Ron, that's why I love you."

But she didn't promise.

He was able to convince her to take a nap, during which time; he decided to take matters into his own hands. He went to the floo and called out "Potions Master's study at Hogwarts"

A pair of feminine feet appeared.

"I'm looking for Malfoy" Ron said in his best auror voice.

"Well, you're barking up the wrong tree, Red" answered the voice of Nymphadora Lupin, the DADA teacher.

"Oh, sorry. Did I get the wrong connection?"

"No. I'm just collecting a few things for him. He's gone on sick leave, started his summer early."

"Where is he? Do you know?"

"Yeah, but why do you want to know? Somehow, I don't think anyone named Weasley would be high on my cousin's list of people allowed to barge in on him in his sick bed."

"It's personal."

"Is that all the answer I'm to expect?" Ron didn't respond. "Fine, he's at the manor."

"Thanks" He almost pulled his head out of the fire, but thought better of it. "Tonks? You still there?"

"Yeah."

"Are you alright? Magic back to normal and everything?"

"Yes. No. Oh, blast. Yes, I'm returning to normal and No I'm not bloody alright. Neville is laid up in the infirmary, Draco's apparently gone 'round the bend, and the Headmaster has been in a towering rage for days on end. We're all expected to take up their duties, including teaching. Severus got so frustrated with our bungling attempts, he's now teaching Potions himself. Otherwise, I'm just fine. Thanks for asking."

"Sure." Ron pulled his head out of the floo. Did Malfoy Manor have a restricted floo?

Maybe. He'd better check first, wouldn't want to have to ask Hermione to re-attach his nose…again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: ****Harry Potter etc… owned by JKR, etc…**

Chapter Six: Mater Familias

Narcissa Black Malfoy dozed on a large fainting couch in the corner of her former bedroom. Her son, lying in a potion-induced stupor on the grand bed, hadn't changed a thing in the room since she'd left it upon the death of her husband. She was roused by the squeaky voice of a house-elf.

"Mistress?"

"Hmm?"

"Mistress, it is Tansi. Are you hearing?"

"Tansi?"

"Mistress, there is a floo call for The Young Master"

She sat up. "Who?"

"He said to say 'Hermynee's Husband'"

"Tell him the Family is indisposed"

"Tansi is trying, ma'am, but he is insisting it is important"

"Tansi" Draco mumbled from the bed

The little elf moved like a shot from a gun to the side of her Master's bed. She lowered her head in deference to him, but couldn't resist the impulse to bounce to and fro on the balls of her feet, in anticipation of being of service to her oft-absent owner.

"Tansi" he croaked again

"Yes, Master? Tansi is here"

"Tell Weasley these matters are better discussed in person. I'll floo to his residence within the hour"

"Yes, Master" she bowed and with a crack, was gone.

"Draco, I really don't think you're in any condition to go flying off to the Weasley's. That hotheaded boy is liable to hex you the moment you step out of the floo."

"I don't believe I asked what you thought, Mother"

"Will you, at least, allow me to accompany you?"

"No"

"Draco…"

"NO. If you're so intent on fretting and playing nursemaid, why don't you go to the infirmary at Hogwarts and visit Longbottom? Your efforts are wasted on me."

Narcissa huffed as her son rose from the bed and left the room. Upon arriving, three days prior, she'd discovered that part of the house was still in use, but not this part. He'd closed off all of the rooms facing Dowager House, the ones which could be seen from the old carriage road approaching the estate and most significantly, the ones her late husband had favored. Other rooms, like Draco's own childhood nursery, the Library and the Kitchen remained as ever, full of the hustle and bustle of elves, doing their best to keep the Master's house perfect and ready for guests. It looked as though Severus was right. Draco did indeed return home each summer. He just didn't let her know about it. She was still quite furious at the elves for not informing her of his presence. She had been their mistress for decades. Had they no sense of loyalty at all? Ah, but that was it exactly. Their allegiance was to The House of Malfoy. Wives come and go, but when it came right down to it, the bloodline was all that mattered to those mad little beasts. "Rather like Lucius in that respect" she mused. Rising, she made her way to Draco's suite. She'd just gotten him back in her life, if even marginally, and she wasn't going to let him slip out again. Nothing good could come of his visiting that horrid girl. She was determined to put a stop to it.

"Draco" she called as she entered his room

"GO AWAY" he shouted as he fastened the studs on his inky black robes.

"We haven't really had a chance to talk since you've returned home"

"A lack of willingness is not the same as a lack of opportunity"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What did you want me to tell you? That I was in love with someone you and Father considered an animal? That she killed the next generation of our House because she thought it would be a more merciful death than the one Father would administer? That I performed several illegal spells, including spilling my son's blood to act as the required sacrifice to seal the bonding spell? That I am bound to her until I draw my last breath? That I am to be the last of my line?"

"That you were hurting" she said quietly

Draco turned his back to her and faced the window.

"Just please go. Go see Longbottom. If he makes you happy, stay with him. Salvage what you can of your happiness."

"Draco, I hadn't wanted to do this, but you're not giving me much of a choice"

She reached into the wardrobe by the door and took out a small, square box.

"I know about your …ah…summer activities"

He paled. "There's no need…"

"Oh, but there is. You need to move on, dear. You need to put this behind you. You're still young. You can recover from this. I'll help you look for a counter-spell; you'll marry and produce a new heir. You will do these things whether you want to or not, because it's for the best and because if you don't, I'll go to Severus and perhaps to the Ministry and begin proceedings to have you committed to St. Mungo's for your addiction"

"Severus doesn't know?" He asked

"No. I'll give you credit. The elves have done everything they could to hide your…problem, but when they saw us arrive with you, three weeks early, they panicked because the preparations hadn't been finished for your return. Severus was too concerned about you to pay much attention to the little urchins, but I knew something was amiss. It didn't take much snooping to find these" she gestured to the wardrobe.

"You can't honestly think anyone would agree to commit me…there isn't anything wrong with me."

"My darling, I know it's difficult to see from your position, but you are sick. This behavior does not approach normal." Her expression changed to one of pity. "I've seen a lot of things during my time in this family, some repulsive and frightening, some grand and wonderful, but this is the first time I've ever …"

"Mother" he interrupted "It's not that serious"

"Not that serious? You stop living for two months every summer! How do they keep you alive? The elves? A spell? A potion?"

"I modified the charm. While involved in the …ah…well, I don't require food or water during the process. I'm in a sort of stasis."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Draco, please…it's not right…"

"When has what's right or wrong ever concerned you, Mother? Not when Father brought Death Eaters into the house, not when a revel was taking place in Grandmother's garden, not when they tortured young girls in the dungeons with their dark rituals."

"Those matters were Lucius' concern. You are mine."

"I'm not addicted"

"Then throw them away! There's a reason the Ministry leaned on the Weasleys to stop selling them, you know. They're dangerous. People became helplessly addicted. They forgot to eat or sleep. That witch in Surrey died!"

"I've made several customized adjustments. They're not dangerous. They're….please, they're all I have left of her. Let me show you." He made for the box in Narcissa's hand.

He took her by the hand and led her to the bed. "Lie down"

She shook her head. "I want you to understand. This is not lunacy, it's how I've maintained my sanity." Again, she shook her head "If you're worried I'll activate the charm and then leave, I'll give you my word not to go until you're safely revived." Narcissa knitted her brows. She was desperately curious. Finally, she nodded. He opened the box and recited the incantation to activate the charm.

Narcissa's vision blurred and she felt nauseous for a moment. When the world righted itself, she was on the path from Dowager House to the garden behind the Main House. It was a bright summer day and the sun was warm on her arms, bared by the light robes she wore. In the distance, she could hear a dog bark, followed by the high pitched laughter of …a child. She gasped and began to run up the path. When she rounded the bend and saw him, her heart constricted so terribly hard within her chest, she thought she might not ever be able to regain her breath. The longing she'd felt a few days before, kneeling at the grave of her lost grandson was nothing to this. Her eyes were wet and she found herself trembling as he looked up, spotting her and giggled "NANA! See my puppy? I named him Abraxas, after that grumpy portrait in the hall outside Father's room." He could have easily been mistaken for Draco, but for the curls in his blond hair. She thought he might, standing there with the sunshine glistening on his face, have been the most beautiful person she'd ever laid eyes on. She rushed inside the gate and gathered him to her. He smelled like freshly dug garden soil with a hint of the crup who ran in circles around her feet.

"I missed you Nana" said the little boy as he wriggled out of her arms and wiped the lipstick off his chubby cheek. "Father has missed you too, let's go in and see him. He'll be so happy you're home. Do you like my dog? Father brought him home last week!" He tugged on her hand and led her through the double doors leading from the garden to the ground floor nursery where all Malfoys slept until they were old enough to climb the stairs. Inside, she found Nani, the ancient house elf, asleep in a rocking chair with a book of faerie stories open on her lap. The little boy looked up at her mischievously and put a finger to his lips. He led her out of the door and across the east side of the house to the Library. He pushed open the doors, but closed them quickly as his parents struggled to make themselves decent, stammering excuses, "Daddy was just helping Mummy", "Where's Nani?" and "Mother, when did you return? We weren't expecting you back until next week!" Narcissa grinned and called through the door "Orion and I are going to the kitchen for biscuits. When you finish helping Hermione, why don't you come find us, Darling?" Again taking his hand, she made her way to the kitchen. In a few moments, the boy's two red-faced parents joined them. She looked very closely at her son. He practically glowed with contentment. She'd never seen him so ecstatic, not even when he and Lucius convinced her after months of begging, to consent to his first sit-alone broomstick. Best of all, he embraced her, kissed her cheek and said "It's good to see you. How's Aunt Andromeda?"

She was so choked up, she hardly noticed Hermione waiting behind Draco. Her would-be daughter-in-law embraced her and said "You're looking lovelier than ever."

"Thank you" she choked out. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, she was pulled out of the dream and back into the empty bedroom of the deserted house. She looked up, expecting to see Draco. Instead, she found a note, lying on the night table.

_I'm sorry, but you, of all people, ought to know a Malfoy's word is not worth the breath it takes to utter the oath._

She cursed and threw the now-crumpled parchment to the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: ****Harry Potter etc… owned by JKR, etc…**

**From last time: Tansi is a Native American name that means "flower" (usually spelled Tansy)**

**Nani is named thus because it sounds like Nanny, which is her primary function.**

**A/N: This chapter is a bit lighter than the others. Please tell me if it seems too out of place.**

Chapter Seven: The Smiths

Ron had no sooner pulled his head from the floo and turned toward the bedroom to change his clothes before he heard the whoosh of flames. Turning back, he thought Malfoy might have changed his mind but was surprised to see an all together different blond git's head sitting upon his hearth.

"Ron, Mate! Thank goodness you're here. I don't know what I'd have done and I only have a few minutes. She's going to scream as it is…"

"Zach. Zach! Calm down. Speak slowly. Is it Ginny? Has she had the baby?"

" She's having the baby, but the midwife thinks she's in a breech presentation. Your mother and the midwife have begun preparations to take her to St. Mungo's. I have to meet them there, but first I needed to find a place for the kids."

"Zach, listen, it's not really a good time right now"

"No! You can't say no. None of your siblings can take them without dividing them up. There are just too many. Please, I'm begging. Ginny has given me exactly a quarter of an hour to take care of this. I don't even want to think about what she might do to me if I mess up!"

Ron looked around for an excuse, any excuse to get out of it, but ultimately, thinking of his poor sister, saddled with the Imbecile Smith, he nodded. He made a mental note to floo Malfoy and postpone their meeting.

"Thanks Mate! You're a life saver! They're still in their pajamas, just transfigure them to day robes…and they haven't had any breakfast, of course…just feed them whatever…I'll send you an owl as soon as we know something. Ready? I'm sending them through!"

The flames grew in height and width as the Smith brood filed through. Ron shook his head smiling as he greeted each of the red-haired hooligans. Zacharias Smith didn't seem to have a single dominant gene in his entire being. He nodded at them as they passed. "Zach," met with a nod. "Zelda," met with a grin. "Zephyr and Zefram," met with identical evil glints in the eyes. Lastly, their father came through, carrying Zarek, who was sleeping soundly. He put the baby on the sofa and kissed each of the children on the head, admonishing them to behave and threatening the twins with severe punishments if there were any "shenanigans", before disapparating with a crack.

The room immediately erupted into a cacophony of noise, which woke Zarek, who proceeded to spot Crookshanks, who decided to make a run for it. The older children yelled for him to come back, while chasing him toward the bedroom. Zarek giggled, Crookshanks hissed and spat, running all the while, before leaping into a furious, claws-out ball of fur upon the bed where Hermione was resting.

Ron could hear Zelda explaining why they were there in a loud voice that barely masked the shrieks of the cat and the howls of both Hermione and the other children. He grinned and prepared himself to enter the fray as Hermione came out, her hair worse for the tumble with the cat, carrying Zarek, who was crying "want kitty!" over her shoulder. The others followed behind her, but upon entering the lounge all began talking at once. "Unca Won! Can we hab panpates?" "My mum says the twins are not to have one bit of sugar, Auntie." "Can we play football?" "Want Kitty!" "Potty!" That one word, voiced by three-year-old Zefram, sent both adults into a panic.

"Ron! Take him!"

"Hermione, please I'm rubbish at Potty Duty! You take him!

He was met with a withering glare from his darling spouse, before giving in and hoping he'd get out with minimal damage. "Does anyone else need to go?" He asked, praying for "no's". It was not Ron's lucky day, however, as both girls raised their hands into the air.

Coming out of the bathroom a good time later, Ron found the lounge already a mess. "Zarek" he muttered. Hermione was chasing the toddler, who was attempting, it seemed, to break every fragile thing in the room. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Zach, was busy taking books off a shelf to make a fort. Upon entering, the other children each chose a corner of the room to destroy. "Hermione? Can't you control them for five seconds?"

"Me?" she bellowed, you're the one dawdling in the loo, to keep from having to work!"

"Going to the loo with this lot IS work!"

Just then, Zefram discovered the wicker trunk which housed Ron's collection of sporting goods. The football Hermione's parents had given Ron for his birthday went flying. Zach was instantly on his feet chasing the ball. Zelda and Hermione were yelling, in identical know-it-all voices, about the dangers of playing ball indoors. Zarek took the opportunity to make his way back to the bedroom, where he was attempting to coax Crookshanks out from under the bed. Ron yelled, Hermione yelled, everyone yelled, but they were all brought to a screeching halt by the clearing of a throat. Draco Malfoy had just stepped, in all of his impeccably tailored glory, out of their floo.

Everyone stopped what they were doing except for Zephyr, who screamed "'afessor Mafoy!" and made a mad dash for him, wrapping her arms around his legs.

Ron raised his eyebrows in question at Malfoy, who calmly picked up the little girl and asked "Have I come at a bad time?"

"No" Hermione replied "right now, we can use an extra pair of hands. But the question or questions beg to be asked: How do you know Zephyr? And what are you doing here?"

"I was invited by your ...ah…Weasley invited me to…talk. As for my friendship with the Junior Weaselette, I have business dealings with Smith. It is inevitable that I see him at home, occasionally. When I do, he is normally saddl…rather… accompanied by several offspring."

"Yes" Zephyr put in, "'Afessor comes to see us at home and we make tea for him while Daddy fetches his things. He knows all the best stories! _The Mad Hippogriff_ is my favorite!"

Ron raised his eyebrows in Malfoy's direction again. What "business" could his daft brother-in-law possibly have with the Potions Master? Zach's family had an old name but no money. Ginny was very particular about keeping the funds Harry had left her separate from her family's finances. She said she was saving it for the kids, but Ron thought she secretly didn't trust her husband to invest it. Smith worked for the twins, managing their warehouse and that didn't require any financial acumen. He decided to ask, but Hermione beat him to it. "Business? With Zach? Are you certain we're talking about the same person?" Now, Malfoy was a cool character, but Ron noticed a definite shift in his posture when Hermione questioned him. If he was interrogating him, he'd think he had something to hide.

"Nothing much" Malfoy replied "Our mothers were friends in childhood and wanted us to continue the connection, so I give him tips sometimes, to help him make ends meet."

"Well" Hermione said, suddenly seeming shy "As you so clearly stated, it's not a good time to talk"

"Yes, well…I thought you said you needed an extra set of hands?" Ron couldn't help but think Malfoy was looking for an excuse to stay.

"We can handle it" Ron said, confidently

"Obviously" Malfoy replied, looking around the messy room

"They do seem calmer since he arrived" Hermione said.

Ron grimaced. His intent in flooing Malfoy was to avoid just such a thing. He wanted him as far away from his wife as possible, but if he turned down his help with the children, Hermione would be furious with him.

"You're hardly dressed for babysitting" a still pajama-clad Hermione observed.

"Easily remedied" and with a swish of his wand, Malfoy was wearing muggle trousers and a white, broadcloth shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Ron's eyes immediately went to the ugly scar on his left forearm. Glancing at Hermione, he thought she might be deliberately trying not to look. The children, now that Malfoy had decided to stay, seemed to be returning to their previous activities, but the stern teacher was having none of that.

"Sit" he commanded, in a booming voice. Wide-eyed, they sat, all in a row, upon the sofa.

"Now, what is the first order of business?" he asked

"Breakfast!" Zelda answered.

"Panpates!" yelled Zefram.

"Fine. If your Aunt would be so…"

"Oh no, Draco. Ron is the cook" Hermione said as she gestured to her frowning husband.

Ron was growing very irritated. He didn't like Malfoy giving orders in his home, even if it was to a bunch of rowdy brats.

"Right. I'll get breakfast going and Zelda can help, if she likes. Hermione can get everyone changed (casting a significant look at Zarek and thanking every saint in Christendom he would be spared that particular torture) and you…you can direct the clean up" Ron ordered, deciding finally to take charge. Malfoy smirked at him and Ron wanted to curse, realizing he had given his rival the perfect opportunity to spend time with his wife while he was sent off to the kitchen like a house elf.

As he angrily waved his wand and sent eggshells flying toward the bin, narrowly missing Zelda's head, he listened intently to the conversation in the lounge.

"What is this odd contraption?" Malfoy would ask and one or more of the children would explain about cricket bats or computers or some such. After a while, the question was answered by a resounding chorus of "Football!"

He could hear Zach speaking a mile a minute about the small white ball covered with black pentagons and the game associated with it.

"Well, I, for one, think we should all go out to the park and learn to play after we've eaten" Malfoy suggested. Ron made a gagging motion with his finger, which made Zelda giggle.

"You don't like the professor, do you?" she asked

"Not particularly" Ron answered.

"Auntie likes him though" she said

"Yes, well, Auntie also likes Kreacher" he grumbled in response, to which the little girl laughed again. The Smith children knew Kreacher very well, as he refused to leave Grimauld Place, even after Ginny set him free. He constantly begged them to lop off his head and add it to the wall with those of his ancestors. He was so old now, he could hardly climb the stairs, but Ginny refused to turn him out, despite the wicked deeds in his past.

Half an hour later, as Ron was levitating their breakfast from the kitchen to the transfigured sofa table, the sight meeting his eyes as he entered the lounge caused a lump in his throat and his heart to actually skip a beat. The children were sitting on the sofa, quietly listening to a story. Hermione sat in a newly-conjured rocking chair with Zarek sitting on her lap, reading _Where the Wild Things Are_. She looked so natural, smiling and gesturing as she created voices for the monsters and the little boy in the story. The children laughed, but not too loudly as they were sure to miss something if they didn't give Auntie their undivided attention. He, for the first time, felt it might be worth it to ask for Malfoy's help. Speaking of ….he looked around and found the git-in-question leaning against the arch next to Hermione's study nook, with a fond, dreamy look on his face that Ron thought might have mirrored his own.

"Who's hungry?" Zelda called out behind him. Malfoy may have called Zephyr the Junior Weaselette, but in Ron's opinion, the five-year-old was much more like her mother than her sprite-like sister.

The children ate heartily and after another half an hour, were helping put away the dishes, but in need of another wardrobe change. Hermione was busy conjuring supplies they might need, most notably, a method of containing Zarek. This left Ron in charge of getting the brood presentable.

"Need help?" Malfoy offered

Ron glared at him, but was struck by inspiration. "Yeah. I'll clean up the girls, you take the boys." A smug smile graced the redhead's face. Let's see how Malfoy likes changing Zarek's famous "noxious nappies".

Ron scourgified the girls, but left them in the same clothes Hermione had conjured, sundresses with sandals. He nearly choked, however, when he turned to find Malfoy had put the boys in football kits….green and silver football kits. If that wasn't bad enough, Hermione thought it was cute and asked Malfoy to change the girls' outfits as well. As if Ron weren't capable of such creativity.

Ron suggested they have two teams for a proper match. Malfoy smirked at him before giving not only the girls a scarlet football kit, complete with gold ribbons for their hair, but Ron too.

Hermione shot Malfoy a glare and he waved his wand again, leaving all three adults in track suits: Ron in Gryffindor Red and himself and Hermione in Slytherin Green.

"Not fair" observed Zach "The teams are lopsided. Besides, Zarek can't really play. He'll pick up the ball and run away."

"I know the rules best. My dad's a football fanatic and since he had no sons, he used to take me to the matches. So, I'll do the officiating" Hermione said as she waved her wand, transfiguring her tracksuit to yellow and black and conjuring a whistle."

"Right then" Ron said, "Let's head out. Everyone get a buddy and stick together!" Hermione was pushing Zarek in a stroller and held Zefram by the hand. Zephyr immediately seized Malfoy's hand, asking to be carried and Zach insisted he was old enough to walk on his own. Sighing, Zelda took Ron's hand and discreetly made the gagging sign she'd seen her favorite uncle make in the kitchen. Ron chuckled and closed the front door behind them.

TBC

**A/N Ginny's Children: **

o **Zacharias Jr.,** seven, named for his father

o **Zelda**, five, named for Zelda Fitzgerald (Famous American Socialite and wife of novelist, F. Scott Fitzgerald)

o **Zefram**, three, named for Zefram Cochrane (The father of modern space flight from Star Trek)

o **Zephyr** , also three, named for the west wind

o **Zarek**, one, named for the last king of Babylon

o **Zoe**, the newborn, her name means "life" in Greek


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This will be the last proper chapter. There will be an epilogue to follow in a few days. In case you were wondering, I did make a little chart with the names, genders, etc… for all twenty-four (twenty-five counting the newborn) of Ron and Hermione's nieces and nephews. Crazy, I know, but once I got started I couldn't stop. Thanks again to all who've read and reviewed.**

**CHAPTER EIGHT: The Final Option**

Ron was back in the waiting area at St. Mungo's. As he looked around, he noticed a few things: 1) there was no sign of Snape or Malfoy's mum; 2) something was wrong with the lighting system as it was dark 3) he wasn't alone; Hermione was sitting on the same couch she'd sat on before and Malfoy was crouched down in front of her. Hermione had tears running down her face and he thought from his head-down posture, Malfoy might be weeping too. There was no sound. It was as if they were petrified in place. Ron thought Hermione looked different, then it dawned on him: she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform…in fact…she looked…oh no, oh no… he tried to turn and run but his feet were glued to the floor. Hermione was dressed the way she used to be in his deepest, darkest fantasies about her in school! Her robe was open, falling down her shoulders and her white, sleeveless oxford, unbuttoned to reveal a hint of black lace, was tied in a knot just under her breasts. Her skirt was several inches too short and he knew if she stood, it would barely cover her naked backside. Her hair was piled in a messy up do, so he could access that long, beautiful neck. The dead give away though, were her bare feet. She was, for some reason, always barefoot in his boyhood dreams. Ron tried to close his eyes before things could get worse, but he was unable to move his eyelids. Desperate, he opened his mouth to scream, trying to yell her name to get her attention, but the sound that came out was Hermione's voice saying the words she'd said to him in their bedroom when he asked about her romance with his rival: "It was… it was like a …force pulling us together".

As though those words were their cue, the couple began to move. Ron thought he might be sick as Malfoy silently reached forward and touched his wife's face. She leaned her head toward his hand. "Draco" she mouthed. Ron tried again to yell at her, this time her voice said "We tried to ignore it, but….well; you know what it's like". Malfoy reached up and kissed her and Ron felt the tears begin to prickle in his eyes. The kiss escalated, the other wizard began to remove his wife's clothes and Ron thought he might actually go mad if he had to watch another minute of this. His heart beat wildly in his chest as Hermione pushed the black robe off of the pale man, baring him to the waist and in the process, revealing a large Dark Mark burned on his back. He pulled her legs up around his waist and leaned forward…. CRASH! Ron blinked and breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be prematurely released from the nightly torture of the recurring dream he'd been having for a little over a month, now. He sat up, wiping tears from his cheeks, trying to get his bearings in the dark bedroom. He looked over at Hermione, who was sleeping contentedly, a smile on her face. He leaned over and kissed her brow. He heard the loud crash again and realized he must've forgotten to let Crookshanks out for the night.

After tending the cat, Ron decided Crookshanks might have a good idea. A walk sounded like just the thing… well, maybe a walk and a drink. As he walked, he reflected on the radical changes his life had undergone in the last month. That day at Hyde Park was the turning point. A thousand times since then, he'd wished that he'd just told Malfoy to go to hell that morning when he'd stepped out of their floo. The park had been an absolute disaster. After an earnest attempt to teach the little witches and wizards the muggle game, Ron grew tired of Malfoy's cheating ("You mean we can't touch it with our hands…at all?" Followed by that infuriating smirk) and baiting (under the pretense of teaching Zach to whistle taught him the tune to "_Weasley is Our King_"). Finally, when the git actually hugged Hermione after his side scored a goal, Ron lost it and dislocated Malfoy's shoulder with a free kick gone "awry". Malfoy retaliated by breaking Ron's nose with the ball. Hermione was furious with them both and refused to heal them. She apparated home, leaving them injured and still in the company of five irritable, muddy children. They wound up at St. Mungo's, where they met Molly, who was on her way to floo them. The Smiths had a new baby sister, Zoë, another redhead. Upon seeing the state of the muddy football kits, the broken nose and catching them in the company of Lucius' son, of whom she'd never approved, Molly relieved them of their babysitting duties. The real nail in Ron's coffin occurred the next morning, however, when an owl arrived at breakfast with the words he'd been dreading. Malfoy offered his assistance in overcoming the bonding spell. In return, all he asked was forgiveness. Of course, Hermione didn't even discuss it with Ron before she hurriedly sent her acceptance of his offer. In the next few weeks, she'd taken a sabbatical from work and began spending nearly every day at "the manor". Ron hadn't felt so alone since Harry's death and it was causing him trouble, both at home and at work. He couldn't concentrate and his intuition, which had never failed him before, seemed way off. He often returned home to find an empty flat. He would sit, cold dinner in hand, and wonder if he was going mad, imagining what those two got up to, and drawing no positive conclusions. Then there were the dreams. He hadn't had a decent night in ages, because he was afraid to go to sleep, for fear of what debauchery his subconscious mind would conjure. It was unbearable. The only bright spot was that Hermione seemed really happy for the first time in a long while. She let Molly give her some old baby things (a cradle and a book about breastfeeding) and started to make long charts in which she calculated formulae for choosing baby names. (Ron told her to forget the charts. If the baby was a boy, he would be called Harry and that was final.) She ate a regular diet of pomegranate seeds, almonds and figs to boost her chances at conception and her mother bought them a muggle contraption that monitored ovulation. He knew he should be happy, but for some reason, Ron just couldn't accept the fact that Malfoy had decided, after years of obsessing about it, to just let Hermione and their lost son go.

He walked into the _Restaurant at the End of the Universe_ and nearly turned around to leave as he spotted his brother-in-law at the bar. He wasn't fast enough, however, and Zach spotted him. "Oi! Ron! Bro! Have a seat!"

The last thing Ron wanted was company. As he drew near, he could smell the fire whiskey on Smith. The man held on to the edge of his seat to steady himself as he tapped the bar and nodded toward Ron. The bartender poured them both a drink. Zach told him to leave the bottle. Ron wrinkled his brow. Why wasn't Zach at home? He had a new baby. Surely Ginny needed the help. What reason did Zach Smith have to be sitting in a bar drinking like he'd lost his best friend? From where Ron sat, his life looked perfect.

"Alright there, Smith?" he asked

"Just peachy" he slurred

"Fight with the wife?"

"Nope. You?"

"I asked you first"

"We're in the same boat, you and me, Ron" he said as he poked Ron in the chest, rather harder than necessary.

"I don't think so" said Ron

"Oh yeah. We are. Lemme ask you. She ever call out his name, you know…when you're…"

"What the bloody hell are jabbering about?"

"I know, you know. We can talk about it. If it makes you more comfortable I'll go first. Kind of a ….sport group."

"Support group?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Hi. My name is Zach and I…I am the victim of unrequited love. Now you're supposed to say 'Hi Zach'. (Ron did, after much prodding.) Well, you know, I've always loved her. It's why I started going to those damn DA meetings to begin with. She's so beautiful, so smart, and so…fiery. But I knew she wouldn't ever so much as look my way. Not me. Not when she had HIM. Harry Bloody Potter." He spat Harry's name like a curse and Ron was just about to correct him when he looked up and, catching the look of sorrow on his face, thought Zach Smith might have been the saddest human being on the planet.

He was quiet as his brother-in-law continued.

"After the war, when we started dating, I asked her why she wanted me, of all people. Know what she said? She said she wanted someone who was the opposite of Potter. Someone who wouldn't wind up getting himself killed and leave her all alone. She wanted someone safe. She shoulda said she wanted someone boring. Not brave. Not famous. Not anything. Just 'nonymous. But I was happy with whatever she could give. I was willing to settle for bein' second choice. He was dead and gone, right? Wrong? We live in his damnable house! (He slammed his fist on the bar for emphasis and nearly toppled off the stool) Your whole bloody family sings his praises every chance they get. His birfday is the worst… We …she …she's never really been all there, you know? She keeps a little bit of herself separate. She loves the kids and maybe even me a little, but….did you know she kept all of his things? His broom. Taught Zachie to fly on it… She's just waiting…" He slumped his head down on the bar.

"Waiting for what Zach?" Ron asked, his heart beginning to thaw a little where the hated in-law was concerned. He'd spent plenty of time in Harry's shadow, but this was… just sad.

"Death" he answered

"You don't mean that."

"Yeah" he sobbed "When it looked like she might…you know…die… during Zoë's birth…she didn't say 'I love you, Zach' or have any messages for the kids. She told your mum, 'don't fret, I'll be with Harry.' When she was in pain and drifting in and out of consciousness, she called for him." He laid his head down on the bar and wept. Ron hesitated, but finally patted the poor pathetic sod on the back.

After a few minutes, Ron thought he'd better try to get Zach home before he made even more of a spectacle of himself than he had already. All Ginny needed was for him to end up on the cover of a tabloid, sauced and telling tales about Harry. Rita Skeeter had already offered a reward to anyone who could prove Zach Jr. was Harry's son (even though he was born nearly three years after Harry died). So, Ron pulled the blubbering drunk to his feet and hoisted an arm across his shoulders. Slowly, he began to move Zach out the door, figuring there was less risk of vomit if they walked rather than apparated or used the floo. Still, the drunken man wept bitterly as he leaned heavily on his brother-in-law, who could be heard to mutter "Bloody Hufflepuff" as they exited the bar.

It was a long, hard slog to Grimauld Place. Smith babbled, brokenly, the whole way. About half way there, he stopped in the middle of the pavement and waved his arms rather wildly. "Wait a mo… Wait…you didn't take your turn, Weasley" he slurred.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, absentmindedly while trying to figure out what time it was, but having a hard time, because he couldn't read his watch in the dark.

"You didn't talk about HIM"

Ron furrowed his brow "Harry?"

"Hell no! Not Bloody Harry!" he yelled, kicking a car and setting off its alarm.

When they stopped running, he said, through panting breath, "I know… I know about Malfoy"

"Whatever you think you know is wrong" Ron said irritably.

"I'm the one who sells him the charms. Didn't you know?"

"What charms?" Now Smith looked like he'd let the cat out of the bag and was trying to get it back in.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing."

Ron grabbed him and pinned him to the wall. "What Charms?"

"You wouldn't hit me, would you? I mean it wasn' really illegal and it did keep him away from her"

Tightening his grip, Ron said "Smith, I don't want to make my sister a widow, but so help me if you don't tell me what you're talking about right now, I'll rip you limb from gangly limb!"

"Alright!" He whimpered "alright. I sold him the remaining stocks of the day dream charms."

"Malfoy? What would he want with a day dream charm?" He asked, loosening his hold on the inebriated wizard.

"Thas wha I wanted to know as well. So I used one. Modified the charm. Boring really. The one I used was a dinner party. Every day kinda stuff. In the charm, he's normal. No death eaters in 'is family. Was havin' dinner with his family, wife and kid, cute little rodent. Think 'is name was 'Ryan or something'. Tha' wasn' the interestin' par' 'nyway, guess who 'is wife was? 'Ermione! Couldn't believe it, but then, remembered the way he looked at her during Zoë's christening. It all made sense. He's got two kinds. Short ones for the school year. Guess he uses 'em at night or weekends. Got longer ones for summers. Last the whole season. Smart little bugger, I'll give him that"

"Are you telling me that Draco Malfoy is addicted to day dream charms?"

"Nah. He's quit now. 'Bout a month ago, told me didn't require my services any longer"

"How did he modify the charms?"

"Dunno" he slurred as he slipped forward, laying his head on Ron's shoulder.

Ron shrugged and dragged him toward home. He was thinking the whole way that he would tell Hermione about the perverted charms and she'd never want to have anything to do with that slimy git again, problem solved. When they reached their destination, they were met at the door by Kreacher. "What an evil pair of drunken lechers you be!" he screeched. Ron shooed him away, only to be greeted by the sight of Ginny, haggard looking and weepy, sitting at the foot of the stairs, nursing Zoë.

"Oh my God!" she cried as she rushed forward and gave the baby to Ron as she took Zach in her arms. "I was so worried! Why didn't you owl me?"

"I'm sorry, Gin. So sorry." He cried, clutching her "Sorry I'm not good enough for you. I just… I'd do anything ….I just want you to be happy…Bring 'im back if I could."

"What is this…are you drunk?" Ron nodded his head behind her drunken husband who was shaking his "no" for all he was worth. Ron thought she might laugh for a moment, but then, a stern look crossed her face. She pressed her lips together and Ron knew, without a doubt that a hangover would be the least of Smith's worries come morning.

He played with the baby while Ginny put Zach to bed. Looking down at his little niece, he began to waver on his plan to tell Hermione about Malfoy. No Malfoy meant no counter spell. No counter spell meant no baby.

He whistled as he walked home, thinking of the look on Hermione's face when he told her about Malfoy. He'd decided to tell her after they developed a counter spell. That would fix Malfoy, that sick bastard…. But then, if he'd had Hermione and been forced to let her go…well, he might've done more than pine for ten years. He'd try to get her back! Come to think of it, why didn't Malfoy try, before now, to do more than keep her from having children with someone else? Why didn't he try to get her back? It was obvious he wanted her. Then, Zach's words to Ginny came back to him. "I just want you to be happy…Bring 'im back if I could." Surely not. Did Malfoy love Hermione enough to let her be happy with someone else? Was that what he was doing now? If he helped her find a way around the binding spell, he was handing her the keys to be happy with Ron. Ron smiled a little as he began to have a little chat with Harry in his mind.

If their roles were reversed, would he be strong enough to let her go? Probably not, but thankfully, that wasn't his problem. Still, when he thought of the way Hermione looked at Malfoy in that waiting room….

Imaginary Harry told him, "if it were Gin, I'd let her go if I thought it made her happy. Hermione deserves to be happy. She's been sad for so long…."

Ron knew at that moment he wouldn't tell his wife about the day dream charms. They would have a baby and it would make her happy. Wasn't that really why Ron had wanted a baby to begin with? All he'd ever wanted was Hermione's happiness. If it meant putting up with Malfoy, he'd just have to do it. He decided to put his wholehearted trust in Hermione. Hadn't she told him "they" were the only thing she had no regrets about? Hadn't she emphasized, repeatedly that he, Ron, was the one she'd chosen? She'd never let him down before. Never. She would remain faithful. Faithful, after all doesn't just mean keeping yourself only to your spouse. It means having faith in her as well, trusting her to love you and honor the life you've built together. Yes, he had faith in her. Come to think of it, she was the only thing he had faith in.

As he snuggled back into the bed, she asked sleepily, "Where'd you go?"

"Just out for a walk. Ran into Zach."

"'m sorry. I know you don't care for him"

"No, actually, you know what? Zach's alright."

She smiled at him through sleepy eyes and kissed him on the cheek "That's why I love you, Ron."

"'Love you too, 'Ermione" he muttered as he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter….JKR….**

**From last time:**

**Bare feet are an ancient Norse symbol of fertility. Pomegranates, almonds and figs were all associated, in ancient times, with fertility. I actually know some people who have devised charts and formulae to help them name their children. Engineers. Go figure.**

**Thanks again to all who've read and reviewed.**

EPILOGUE: Eleven Years Later...

September 1:

Leo Weasley shivered against the night air as Professor Sullivan led them across the lake in a fleet of small boats. He'd seen the castle many times but for some reason, tonight it seemed more…magical. He sat in a boat with his two best friends: Augusta Longbottom and Zoë Smith. Zoë was also his first cousin and of twenty-four others, closest to Leo in age. She had red hair and the biggest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Well, maybe the second, for his other best friend was blue-eyed as well. Augusta was raven-haired and pale as winter moonlight. She had wide blue eyes and a sharp wit. When they were small, a woman in a park once asked if they were brother and sister. Leo thought it was absurd at the time, but they often joked nowadays that they were "separated at birth". It was kind of silly, for Leo looked nothing like the lovely Augusta. He had brown, curly hair and dark brown eyes, the spitting image of his mother, but for a pointy nose and chin his dad said came from his maternal great-grandmother. He and the girls had known each other since infancy because their parents were all friends from school. That statement wasn't very accurate either. They had all gone to school together except for Augusta's mother, who oddly, was old enough to have mothered all the others. Couldn't really tell though, Leo thought. She was really, really good looking. He was shaken from his thoughts by Zoë, who was speaking.

"Don't know why you two are nervous. You've been here loads of times. For, Pity's sake, Augusta, your dad is a professor! You're going to have it made! I'm the one who should be shaking in my boots."

"Actually, I hear the other kids are harder on students whose parents are professors. Use the kids to get revenge for all the torture the parents have put them through."

Leo smiled; he'd like to see the seventh year who thought she could put one over on Augusta.

She sneered "Why are you smiling, Leo? They're going to get you too, probably worse when word gets out both your godparents teach here."

"Yeah, I imagine some of them would like to get even with Uncle Draco, but who could possibly have a problem with Tonks?"

As the boats pulled ashore, Professor Sullivan gathered all the first year students in front of a great wooden door, upon which he knocked three times. The old woman who answered looked very stern, certainly not the kind of teacher one would want to cross. Leo wrinkled his face up in concentration. He thought he knew all the teachers at Hogwarts and he couldn't place her. As they prepared to enter a door he knew led to the antechamber where first years waited to be sorted. It was very crowded in the little room and when he scooted next to Augusta, he could feel her trembling. He took her hand and tried to sooth her with humor by pulling a face. It didn't work.

"Don't worry. What's the worst that could happen?"

"We might get separated" she whispered

"Not bloody likely" Zoë muttered as someone stepped on her toe

"Not in here…out there" she said as she pointed toward the door leading into the hall.

"How"…Leo began…"how do they do it?"

"Dunno, some kind of test. No one will tell. It's supposed to be some big surprise. I wish we'd read that book your mum was trying to push on us."

"She's been trying to get me to read that behemoth since I learned how to spell cat. I don't care if they put me on the rack and threaten to make me live in the forest, I'm still not reading it." In truth, this conversation made Leo especially nervous. His mum had told him not to worry, that all the houses were equally great. His dad had told him, however, if he got sorted into any other house but Gryffindor, he might as well just get back on the train and come home. He felt nauseous as the doors opened and the old witch appeared again. Then the whole room gasped asshe scrunched up her face, in great effort and was instantly transformed into the smiling visage of his godmother, Nymphadora Lupin.

"We're ready for you" she said, grinning "Right this way".

As Leo passed her she winked at him and he felt a little better.

The sorting wasn't half as bad as he thought. They stood at the front of the hall and one by one had to try on a patched and dodgy looking old hat (which had sung a funny song at the beginning of the ceremony that Leo was simply too nervous to pay attention to). The hat, then, after a long amount of deliberation for some and not-so-much for others, called out the name of a house. The "sortee" then joined the members of that house at their respective tables. Leo looked out across the room. The Gryffindor table, on the right, was easy to spot as it was populated by redheads; his Weasley and Smith cousins comprised most of Gryffindor's residents these days. There were three other tables. His father said he would be able to tell by looking which were which, but honestly, they all looked the same to him. Professor Lupin called Augusta's name, catching Leo's attention. He watched as the hat seemed to take a long time in deciding where to put her. He looked at the high table and spotted her father sitting with fingers crossed, eyes closed muttering the words" Not Slytherin" over and over again. He didn't get his wish, however, for finally the hat (with a bit of a chuckle) proclaimed Augusta Longbottom the newest addition to Slytherin House.

Leo was gobsmacked. Augusta was right. They were going to be separated. He promised himself right then and there that he would not let house rivalries get in the way of his friendship with Augusta. But his father's words came back to him…"there was never a dark wizard who wasn't connected to Slytherin in some way or other". He never had anything good to say about the dungeon dwelling Slytherins. In fact, Leo had often wondered how his father and his godfather ever managed to be friends. They didn't seem to like each other very much and the root cause seemed to have something to do with Hogwarts. When they disagreed, and they often did, the argument frequently dissolved into name calling regarding house affiliation. His dad called Uncle Draco "The Ponce of Slytherin" and the thing Uncle Draco had called his dad in return, he'd promised his mother never to repeat in mixed company. His mum on the other hand assured him that there were plenty of good Slytherins, Uncle Draco for one and the Headmaster for another. She also reminded him that plenty of people from other houses turned out badly, Peter Pettigrew and his Uncle Percy, who died long before is birth were both Gryffindors during their schooldays.

The sorting continued and before long, it was Zoë's turn. Her brothers and sisters could be heard hooting and cat-calling as the hat was placed on her head. A hush fell over the whole crowd though, as the hat announced that Zoë would be joining Augusta in Slytherin. Now Leo was really surprised. True, Zoë's parents had been in different houses, but no one expected this. She had to be the first Weasley in centuries not to take her place in Gryffindor. He felt worse than ever. He would be separated from both girls for sure, for it was a foregone conclusion that he would be in Gryffindor. Both of his parents were Gryffindors and all of his wizarding grandparents for time out of mind. Suddenly, his first year, which he'd looked forward to since he could say "Hogwarts", seemed a lonely prospect.

Forlornly, He glanced up at the high table again and noticed identical smirks on the faces of both the Headmaster, whom he didn't know, but whose reputation as a tyrant preceded him and that of his godfather, who looked for all the world like he would smile at any moment. There was only one problem with that, Uncle Draco never smiled. "Malfoys do not smile like simpering Hufflepuffs" he'd told Leo more than once as a small child. Glancing over at Augusta's dad, he saw that the Herbology teacher had dropped his face into hishands and was shaking his head. Now it was just Leo and Mariah Zabini, whom he knew from his splendid birthday parties thrown every March at Malfoy Manor by his godfather. He didn't particularly like her, but she seemed nervous, so he smiled at her. Professor Lupin was calling out "Harry Weasley" and it didn't register in his mind that she was calling him until she shouted "HARRY LEONIDAS WEASLEY".

With a jerk he made his way on shaky legs to the stool and sat down. Professor Lupin went to put the hat on his head and it had barely touched his carefully controlled (with a short haircut and copious amounts of Sleekeasy's) coiffure before announcing that he would not be separated from the girls after all, but join them in Slytherin. As he took his place at the Slytherin table with his two best friends, he looked again at the high table. The Headmaster was clapping (maybe he wasn't so bad after all) and his godfather was smiling like a kid at Christmas. Leo waved at him, returning his proud smile as ProfessorLongbottom patted the Potions Master on the back and offered him his hanky to wipe the tears streaming down his face.

The End.

**A/N: For this chapter: Augusta is Neville's grandmother's name. It seemed natural. **

**I know Zoë would technically be a year above Leo, but give me a little leeway, here. I didn't want to give Ginny and Zach another baby. **

**By my calculations, Leo's birthday is March 10, shared with Remus Lupin, that's why Tonks is his godmother. **

**I don't know who first described Malfoy as "pale as winter moonlight" but it is a phrase that has always stuck with me. I love it. I think it describes him, beautifully. Finally, for those who aren't related to Captain Obvious: Augusta is Draco's ½ sister, a product of Neville's union with Narcissa. Draco is Leo's Father**.


End file.
